A Letter of Hope
by Everlane
Summary: Quinn always knew that before she was born, her mother once told her elder sister that she was no longer a Berry, but a Fabray. She wasn't going to be labeled such a name, and was going to live up to the Fabray name. She also knew that her sister was no older than three, yet understood that no one in Greenwich Valley saw her the way they saw the rest of the Fabrays. Santana/Rachel


_I don't own glee_

* * *

**A Letter of Hope**

The letter was calling on to her, a small little envelope peeking in between the several she found spread out on her bed. She read its contents on blue lined paper, hands trembling as she bore over each word. She didn't know how this letter was even written, after what she did four years ago. And the saddest part was that, the person she did bad against didn't send this letter.

"Quinnie, what's that you're reading there?" Quinn slipped the paper under her thigh, turning to watch her mother stand by her door. "Oh, I see they're all your mail. Did you get any letters from Yale or Columbia?"

Quinn made a show of looking around again. She hasn't applied to one school and didn't plan to, at least for this year. "No, I didn't. But I've gotten an acceptance letter to New Jersey State though."

"That's nice. But do make sure you find out about the others."

"I will. I'll try my best."

She waited a few more moments after her mother left. Quinn locked the door, and came back to read the letter again. _I didn't tell her that I'm asking you to come. But Rachel will understand. Please think about it. _She put it down, releasing a shuddering sigh. This was what she's always wanted since that night Rachel was sacked out of the house because of her; but like always, she questioned every step she took, because of the guilt that weighed her down.

Quinn placed the letter aside, and walked to her vanity, pulling out the first drawer underneath. She rummaged for a bit, before she took out a picture of both she and Rachel at a wedding. She kept this close after her father burned each picture they had of Rachel, which weren't many. Rachel was only five in this one, while she was just a toddler. The two were dressed up in their best, but Quinn's eyes lit up and her smile was wide and bright. Rachel, who had her on her lap, looked exhausted.

Memories soon seeped in. Ones of her going to the library with Rachel, slipping under the bed with her whenever Rachel cried, and of her watching the weight on her shoulders further push the older girl down, were alive in her mind. This was when she was too young to know anything, or know why her own kin wasn't considered one in the Fabray Manor. They were old memories, but they meant something. They had to.

* * *

Quinn always knew that before she was born, her mother once told her elder sister that she was no longer a Berry, but a Fabray. She wasn't going to be labeled such a name, and was going to live up to the Fabray name. She also knew that her sister was no older than three, yet understood that no one in Greenwich Valley saw her the way they saw the rest of the Fabrays.

Rachel was once the heir of the Berry fortune, which withered to nothingness the moment Hiram Berry committed suicide after his scandalous affair with a man reached town. Russell Fabray was his best friend before the scandal, and found it his utmost duty to ensure that Rachel Fabray had a traditional upbringing.

Her only memories of Rachel after reaching preadolescence were ones where she would hear her playing the piano in her bedroom...or most times crying. She would slide out of bed, ever so quiet in her furry slippers and tiny stature. She'd follow the sound of the music playing, and sit herself by her sister's door, either lulled by the fleeting tones of the piano wafting from the room or pained by her cries.

But before she grew old enough to be aware, she reminisced of days where Rachel was more like the mother she never saw in her own. She was the face she woke up to everyday, the face she grew to love. As a toddler, she was so afraid of the dark, but Rachel would lay with her until she fell asleep. Sometimes, she was still there when she woke up. Other times, when it came to going to school, Rachel was the one who walked her there because Frannie would refuse.

Rachel was the one who taught her to read, cuddling with her on the top floors where the ancient books sat in the library, and reading along with her as the hours passed. When she would come home with a scratch some of the boys would give her, Rachel was the one who would put a swab of alcohol on top before she would kiss her wound and cover it with a band aid.

She was her everything when her relatives were nonexistent, until she turned eight. Quinn always knew that her parents and older sister, Frannie, never treated Rachel right. Since she was only young, she never questioned it. But on this day, her mother wanted her to go out shopping with Frannie tagging along. This was in the kitchen, where Rachel sat quietly by herself by the dinning table a few feet away.

Quinn innocently asked if Rachel could come along, until Frannie answered with this, "Oh my God, Quinn. Are you serious? There's no way that girl with a cave of a nose will screw up my image. Do you know how many people know me at the mall?"

"Don't talk to her like that!" Quinn shouted indignantly, surprised by what her sister just said as her eyes just widened.

"Lower your voice, Quinn. That's not how a lady speaks in front of others." her mother chastised. "Now go to your room, and think about what you just said to your sister."

"But-"

"_Go!"_

Quinn refused to listen. She rushed over to her sister, who had the saddest expression she had ever seen. She placed her hands on her lap and held her waist, looking up. "But Rachel, you saw me. I didn't say anything bad to her. She was the one who said something bad about you."

"I know, Quinn."

"But why aren't you helping me? I didn't do anything, Rachel." she said. "Frannie was the one who called you names. Shouldn't she be grounded?"

Rachel was about to speak, until her mother's hand grasped Quinn's arm and tugged her forth. Quinn was forced to look into her eyes, and stand silent as her mother gave her a speech about giving respect if she wanted it from others, and not demanding it. Her mother looked so furious, but kept it veiled. Only her piercing blue eyes bore unto the girl. She then stood straight and pulled Quinn up the stairs until she locked her in her bedroom, grounding her for the rest of the day.

* * *

As she approached her ninth year, Quinn began to question the way Rachel was to her parents and Frannie. She started to pay more attention, but didn't do much to stop it. Perhaps it was because she was still a child, but Quinn often thought that maybe she should have said something. She had since stopped sitting by Rachel's door to hear her playing the piano, not that she even played it anymore.

And this was because her father began to enter Rachel's room in the middle of the night.

He did it frequently during that year, making Quinn feel more frightened and worse. She had no clue of what was going on, but she always felt like Rachel was being hurt. Why else would she cry like that? Quinn tried to say something to some of the staff members in the manor, but they all turned a blind eye. Her mother shut her up before she even started to say anything, and Frannie always liked to switch the topic. Everyone knew what was going on, but did nothing to stop it.

Her father was an intimidating man, whose long hours at work didn't bother her in the least. His presence in the house was like this dark cloud over everyone, where all of them had to walk around eggshells. He treated her like a princess though, bought her all the stuff she wanted until she'd forget about him making Rachel cry at night. Then she would feel guilty all over again.

Sometimes her daddy made Rachel do things nannies were supposed to do. Other times, he nitpicked on every little thing she did. He did it so much that Quinn honestly felt like he was anticipating it.

One time, she remembered walking to the dance studio with Rachel, her mind ridden with so many concerns. She had just turned nine, and Rachel was twelve. She was still close to Rachel, but sensed they were drifting apart, the more Rachel seemed so detached from everyone else in the manor. It made Quinn feel a ton worse, because she knew deep inside that Rachel was probably distant because her daddy kept on going to her bedroom almost every night.

"Rachel, how come daddy has you taking me to ballet lessons everyday?" she asked this holding Rachel's hand. "Can't he get the nanny to do it? Don't you have to go to school sometimes?"

Rachel didn't look too happy, but smiled anyways, "Don't worry about it, Quinn. I asked him to take you to lessons, because you're my favorite sister."

She didn't believe her, because when Rachel smiled, she usually smiled like she was lighting up the entire world. But she hadn't smiled like that since Quinn turned eight. She was missing so many days in school, and Quinn knew that some of the teachers were informing her parents about it, to which they didn't seem to care.

Sometimes she'd see Rachel willingly go to school, but come home the next morning. Her daddy would be angry because Rachel would come when he wasn't in the house, and when he would finally get a hold of her, he'd sometimes whip her bad inside her bedroom. Other times he did it while just the family were downstairs, sipping tea and conversing while hearing her pleading screams.

* * *

She wasn't much of a dater like Frannie was. Frannie was the only one who taught her the rules of dating, She did her make up, had her hair done for all her dates, and made sure she had the right outfit to go out with. By the time she started going to high school, she knew how to play with the boys, even though she preferred not dealing with them at all.

Her hair was no longer dark, but a shining blonde like her mother and Frannie's. She wasn't as chubby as she used to look. Now, she was more slender because of the cheerleading team she joined. Quinn Fabray was no longer Lucy Caboosey. She was a true Fabray, just as her father said, and that was how she liked it. By then, she forgot most of her times with Rachel, because Rachel was barely around.

At eighteen, she was a mess, and no one still did anything about it. She was getting more frail, her skin pallid, and eyes tired. At Finley Preparatory Academy, she was the girl who had the excellent grades when she was in school. The only problem was that she was _barely_ in school. Quinn didn't really care much about her anymore, so she poured her heart into cheerleading and boys. Frannie was in college, and always called Quinn everyday. The two were inseparable in the eyes of others in school, but to Quinn, only the latest gossip and boys held them together.

Anything else, like talking about Shakespeare, or about how she was going to travel the world, were off limits. Frannie was as open minded as that. Whenever Quinn saw Rachel, sitting by herself or being publicly humiliated by getting slushied or jeered at because of who her father was, she often missed those talks they had when she was young.

The only good thing was that Rachel started to talk. No like just talk, but talk back to her father and everyone else. One time Frannie told her to go back to that gutter she was supposed to fall back in, to which Rachel silently replied, she didn't have the qualifications for it like Frannie did. Her father stopped going to Rachel's bedroom, and stopped beating her whenever she came home late nights or very early mornings. A neighbor asked him why wasn't he so strict on Rachel, since she showed signs of being loose. Russell only replied, "Well she's not my real daughter. Let her act up all she wants."

Russell wouldn't say anything that would jeopardize his reputation, like how he probably stopped controlling Rachel because at one point, she most likely fought back. Quinn would know because one time, she remembered Rachel biting down on Russell's hand when he tried to slap her.

Freshman year in high school was the year before Rachel would be kicked out of the house. She remembered everything getting worse. She started to argue with Rachel, and most times would revert back to repeating Frannie's hateful words. At one point, they fought over the piano in Rachel's bedroom. Quinn was having lessons, and expected her father to buy her a new one.

He told her that she could take Rachel's piano, and since she felt entitled at fifteen, she walked upstairs to Rachel's bedroom that night. It was empty, the floor ridden with music sheets spread all around the piano. She hesitated for a bit, but since she felt that her father would take care of Rachel, she started to push the piano with the help of the butler, Frederick.

"What're you doing?" Rachel asked sharply, walking inside the room with her school uniform. She looked livid, as if she knew just what Quinn was doing this for. "Why are you taking my piano?"

Quinn laughed, "Your piano? You mean the piano my daddy bought that just happened to be in the guestroom when you moved in? That piano?"

Rachel blinked, "Why are you taking it away?"

"I've signed up for piano lessons, and the piano needs to be downstairs when my tutor comes in. Maybe if you were a bit nicer to daddy, he'd probably buy you another one."

When she said those words, she forgot that they had a double meaning. Rachel was on her then, shoving her backwards with such ferocity that her head hit near the edge of the bed. She lunged back, still not as strong as Rachel was when she was beyond pissed. Frederick shouted for them to stop, trying to pull them apart. The two girls still fought, Quinn failing to do so much as punch her sister in the face. Russell came in the bedroom, pulling Rachel off Quinn.

"Get your hands off her!" he shouted at Rachel, who looked like she didn't know what else to do. "I bought that damn piano, so I decide who the hell gets it. Do you understand me?"

Rachel stood there, panting. She looked at Quinn, who only glared back. "Enjoy it as much as you can, Quinn. I'm sorry I felt you didn't deserve it." She bent down to collect all her music sheets, hands trembling. When she had every sheet in her hand, she quietly left the room.

Quinn stood there with a stunned expression.

"Let's get this downstairs," her father said.

"I don't want it, dad. No lessons." she said, shaking her head. Memories of Rachel playing the piano at nights invaded her thoughts. "I don't even like playing the piano."

* * *

They were at a barbeque, and Rachel happened to just be in the right place to be invited when she met her. Frannie came for the summer, so she filled Quinn with all the details of how college was. Quinn was struggling to appear interested, but would sometimes nod off. A new family moved into town. They were the Lopez family, and Russell Fabray found it humoring that they were the richest in the neighborhood given that they were Latinos.

Quinn found out that they had five children, who were all very successful students, the youngest being ten years old in a boarding school all the way in Connecticut. Their second oldest was coming home that day from college for the summer. Her mother filled her in on all the details of her success at Columbia University. Quinn heard that she was majoring in Biology and some thing else she couldn't remember. But for the most part, she was one of the top students in her class already in her senior year, and looked like she wasn't going to slack either.

The entire family looked like the type that wasn't used to making money while sleeping. They probably worked their way up, but Quinn wasn't in the mood to speculate then. She sat down next to Frannie, while Rachel was two seats down, scribbling something in a small memo pad. The barbeque was filled, with almost everyone in the neighborhood.

Frannie was tired of talking, so she asked Quinn to grab her a can of soda. Quinn turned to look at Rachel, silently asking her if she wanted a can as well. Rachel seemed surprised, but meekly shook her head. She then asked her to follow her, to which Rachel gladly did, since she didn't want to be stuck with Frannie. As she walked over to the table with the drinks, she ignored the way Frannie glared at her back. It's been a few months since the fight over the piano, and it seemed as though both she and Rachel were making amends.

"Let's take a walk down the block for a sec," Quinn suggested after she gave Frannie her drink. She wanted to apologize to Rachel. "For old times sake, Rachel."

They walked down one block from the barbeque in silence. "I haven't seen you in school much,"

"I've been around." Rachel said.

"But not enough. You didn't show up at your own graduation."

"I never even graduated, Quinn."

She shrugged, looking down. Rachel didn't say, but everyone knew that because of her poor performance in school, she didn't graduate. For the most part, she was barely in the house at nineteen. And Judy was convincing Russell to find a way to sack her.

Quinn looked sideways to admire her, watching her way her skin glowed because of the summer in the black polka dot frock she wore. Her hair fell over her shoulders, soft dark waves down her shoulders. Rachel was having a lot of issues, but still looked as if the sun birthed her. The notion made Quinn feel little compared to her sister, who endured so much yet seemed so above the ashes of them all.

"That dress is cute. Where did you get it from?"

"Thank you. I actually got it from this pl-"

Then it happened. Something sped past them. A dark truck, going in the opposite direction. Dry leaves fluttered about them. Quinn only saw a dark haired woman inside with shades, taking a glance at her sister as it passed them. A few feet behind them, the truck screeched, halting in the middle of the empty road, before the it started reversing until it was right by the two of them.

The passenger window slid down, before Quinn saw a young woman pulling down her shades. She seemed so stunned to see Rachel, who was on the edge of the sidewalk, that Quinn frowned. No one really cared for Rachel much, but this young woman who looked like some Brazilian beach model seemed to be starstruck. Rachel looked like she was in the same position, combing the side of her hair with her hand. _"Hi."_

"Hi." Rachel said back, looking just as stunned.

The young woman in that dark truck was no other than the oldest of the Lopez children, and Quinn hated her as soon as she slid out that truck to talk to Rachel.

She was gorgeous, with long dark hair put into a loose pony tail. She was wearing a white tank top over denim shorts, showing off her toned legs. There was this air of confidence over her that irked Quinn, because this girl was rich as hell, intelligent, and beautiful to boot. She had the whole fucking package.

But what made Quinn frown the most was the way she spoke to Rachel. She looked like she could honestly sit hours there just to hear Rachel talk, and it was messed up that someone liked Rachel like that and not her, even if they liked the same sex. "So where are you guys going?"

"We were just going for a walk," Rachel answered quietly, looking at Quinn, who didn't seem too happy. Santana noticed, focusing on the blonde girl with a look she couldn't decipher. "But we do plan on going back to the barbeque. Are you staying?"

Santana still looked at Quinn then, "For the entire summer actually, but if it were up to me, I'd stay forever here. I think I'm going to love this place. Who's your friend here?"

More like who the _hell_ was she. Quinn gladly answered, cutting Rachel off, beginning to walk away, "The name's Quinn Fabray. And I'm her sister. I'll see you later, Rachel."

* * *

Evening had been ending when her daddy said it once. Whenever he was drunk after consuming so much wine and gin, he'd sit near the foyer and would order all the children to sit on the loveseat across from him.

Quinn remembered that he'd always be in his business suit, but his shirt would be slightly unbuttoned, suit apart, and the flyers of his pants would stay undone. These were the more uncomfortable of her experiences, but in them, she saw her father at his truest form. She saw a man who wasn't the man their neighbors saw.

When they were very young, Russell had them all squished together on the loveseat. She, Rachel, and Frannie dressed in their nightgowns. She was only a toddler, curled in Rachel's arms while Frannie was stiff, her expression so tense and rare. Her daddy would always start with a few verses from the Bible, then would tell a story of a child whose father committed one of the worst sins. This is when she would feel Rachel tighten her arms around her, but Quinn would never know why.

Her family's -the entire neighborhood's- opinion about homosexuality was, at it's most, vile and crude. It was not only a sin, but an illness. And it seemed that whenever Greenwich Valley judged anyone who showed signs of homosexuality, they always went to the story of Hiram Berry as reference.

There was no denying that Santana was a lesbian, given the rumors from out of town of her escapades with several women in New York. Quinn already disliked her, but she grew a hatred for her because Santana or the rest of her family members didn't seem to care about what they had to say. It was more angering that Rachel didn't give a damn either, continuing to talk with Santana as much as she could.

"I think it's disgusting, and it's even more so because the bitch looks like she likes that shit." Frannie stated one night in her bedroom, where Quinn stayed, reading a magazine by the foot of her bed. "But I'm not even surprised she's close friends with the goblin right now. Looks like a match made in heaven."

"Frannie, that's the only friend she has." Quinn said, rousing a giggle from Frannie. "Take what you can get, right? No one else that's normal wants anything to do with Rachel. All that bitch wants is to get in her pants, then after, Rachel will come crying home."

Quinn felt that it was what they hoped, but it never turned out that way. Santana was perhaps the only person who cared to give Rachel a second look. And she knew that somehow, their secret was unraveling whenever the young woman would come to the manor looking for Rachel.

She ignored the budding relationship. The rumors. She would turn heads whenever she watched them speak in front of the manor. Her parents were no different. Her father always looked like he was at a tipping point the more Santana grew close to Rachel. His sermons of sin started to repeat in her head, so much that she started to pay more attention to the two women herself.

One night, Quinn slid down until she sat right by Rachel's slightly opened door. The noises woke her up. Moans and the soft sounds of flesh against flesh. She peeked through the opening, kneeling until she saw two bodies under thin sheets over Rachel's bed. Santana leaned on her elbow over Rachel, who sat up, looking around. Quinn knew that they were sleeping together ever since they met. Rachel seemed easy like that. But she had no idea that they were still doing months after they met.

Her nose flared from the musk from the room, thighs pressed against each other. Santana leaned over to place a chaste kiss over Rachel's cheek, holding her against her. Rachel continued to look around, her body so tense.

"Come back to bed."

"I can't. Please let's just go back to your place, Santana." Rachel's voice shuddered, and it sounded like she was beginning to cry. "_Please. _I can't relax here."

Santana frowned, "In your own house? Rachel, you need to tell me what the hell is going on. Why are you always so tensed up in your own damn house with those assholes?"

Quinn slid back then, eyes still pinned on Rachel as she retreated to her bedroom. She buried herself under plush blankets, knowing that Rachel was saying things she shouldn't say. But who was she to talk? At some point, secrets had to be spilled, and sacrifices had to be made. She remembered hugging herself, using her legs to tuck the bottom edges of the blankets under her feet, and forcing herself to go back to sleep. This was the first and last time she ever heard or saw the two of them in her sister's bedroom.

* * *

"Are you sure you saw them, Quinn? Because I know I hate Rachel, but what you're saying is way too extreme." Frannie said, pausing while she painted her nails. "Tell me. Are you sure you saw both of them together in the bedroom?"

Quinn flipped through the magazine in her hand, thrilled at the thought to being the first to give out this information. It was only a few months after seeing them together, but Rachel was now barely home. She knew that Santana knew everything, and was keeping Rachel from coming back to the manor. "I saw them with my own two eyes. If it were up to me, I wouldn't want her here at all."

"Then let's tell daddy. Daddy would know what to do with her." Frannie said, abandoning her polish and wiping them off her nails with a cotton ball dipped in acetone. "There's no way."

Quinn blinked, "But..."

"But what?"

Quinn shifted, turning to see her the older form of herself. Frannie and she were almost identical, but their opinions were always and would be at odds. "I don't think you should do that."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? Weren't you the one who said you'd rather see her out?"

"I know, but that's just talk. You know exactly what I mean." Quinn said, her hazel eyes narrowing. "You know what daddy did to Rachel. If you say anything to him and God forbids he hurts her, they'll know-"

"Bullshit. I was there, and so were you." she said, roughly putting her things back in the vanity. "Nothing happened to Rachel. We were all asleep. We heard no one going into her bedroom. She was the one who made herself cry at night."

"But-"

"Quinn. Nothing happened." Frannie snapped, her dark eyes boring over her litter sister, who cowered the more she did. "Daddy's rich, and so are we. She can call the cops or take us to court. But she's a Berry, and no one will believe something that happened years ago."

"What about morals then?"

"Oh please, Q. What morals do the Fabray family have?" Frannie murmured, pinning her her up. "We, along with this damn neighborhood, go to church every Sunday. We read the Bible like we're reading a fucking manual. We preach about sin and all that bullshit. But are we doing this because of God? I doubt it."

As she watched her sister rummage through the room, she thought about her words for the entire day. This was the last time she ever was this close to Frannie, not that she ever was close to her at all.

* * *

_Present_

"So like, what do you think will happen once you get there? I mean, it's not like you and your sister are actually like close now." Brittany said, fingers lightly tucking a strand of Quinn's hair behind her ear. "Well you're not really sisters but still..."

Quinn leaned over to place a peck on her best friend's temple, gazing at her look down on the pillows they laid over in the attic. No one visited here much, since it was mostly abandoned and filled with old pictures and ornaments in the manor. But this place had been a sanctuary for her since everything changed.

Rachel's leaving the manor brought an onslaught of suspicions from the other neighbors. No accusations came about, but that alone only made Quinn feel worse. Rachel was probably as happy as she could be since she's no longer with them, so there was no need to pursue the Fabrays for child abuse and neglect charges.

The Fabrays lived their life, but could never be pure because of the girl they dragged out of the house.

A dark cloud would always hover over them, and they would never be rid of it.

"What do you think I should do?" she asked quietly.

Brittany's latter words had her packing a few days before school ended for the summer. When she was supposed to attend her Frannie's birthday celebration on the day she graduated, she was already in her car, armed with all forms of identification and her directions.

She drove. She sailed over Route 80, ridden with the urge to turn back and forget that her elder sister's partner reached out to her. But those memories of Rachel being there for her as a kid kept her going. Her iPhone had been blasting the entire half hour driving, but Quinn paid no mind. Going back home wasn't an option.

Several hours later, she arrived in Lima without knowing it. She was too calmed by the line of trees and bushes as she decelerated. At an intersection, she checked to make sure she was following the right path, before making a left turn. Lima, Ohio wasn't the brightest looking place like South Jersey was. It reminded her of those cornfield towns she'd see in movies, except that it looked a bit more modern and chic.

Quinn didn't imagine her sister living here. But Lima looked like a place most people overlooked, and with a bit of guilt seeping in to her, she would know why Rachel would want to stay here. It was empty, with people who knew nothing of her past enough to start judging.

Hazel orbs caught a landmark, and soon, she saw the gates leading onto a hill towards a neighborhood atop its peak. Lima Heights. _Perfect. _

As she angle parked into a lot adjacent to a neat array of houses, she spotted the number she was looking for. _608_. She removed her shades, placing them inside her duffel bag. The house was large, held by thick pillars in front, and ornamented by the flower filled bushed around then. She leaped over the small staircase leading to the house in front of her, pausing once she spotted the bell.

There were soft noises from inside, one that sounded much like Rachel, but was less pitched. She wasn't too surprised that four years apart could even change your voice. The other voice, Santana's, was loud and clear. She could hear her laughing quietly, while Rachel would respond in an agitated tone.

She pressed the bell. Twice. The voices still continued on, but it was Rachel's that grew louder, making Quinn take a step back and swallow with fear. "Who is it?"

She gulped, "It's Quinn, Rachel."

Once she said her name, she no longer heard the voice, but was aware that Rachel was still standing there. Shuffling was heard. Rachel was trying to decide. Should she open the door or not open it?

"Rachel, I know you don't want me in there but please...I need to talk to you. Santana was the one who invited me to come here for the summer."

Stomping was heard, followed by slight creaks on a staircase. Rachel had left, and then another pair of footsteps came forward. Santana was the one who answered the door, and her sister was no where to be seen.

She accepted the hug the older woman gave her, remembering a time when the thought of hugging her made her skin crawl. Now, all she could think about was how warm her sister's partner's arms were and how they reassured her that Rachel just needed some time to cool off before she was ready to see her again.

So here she was, minutes later, in a comfy looking living room covered with photographs of Rachel and Santana, along with others Quinn had no idea about. Rachel was seated right across from her, arms folded and eyes focused on the television. Santana wanted them to talk, but having Rachel here so cold and unapproachable made her search for forgiveness impossible. She missed days when Rachel used to forgive without a thought, but that was long ago.

"So how's everything?" Quinn asked.

Rachel blinked, folded arms now wrapped around her. Her hair was a glossy tumble over her shoulders, with tiny streaks of a cross between a chestnut and auburn. Quinn couldn't tell. She looked so radiant, glowing in her white dress that barely hid the swell of her belly. Santana had called Quinn before her trip, telling her that Rachel was only eight months, but was one of the calmest pregnant women she'd ever dealt with as a doctor.

She barely had any morning sickness, or complained about it. Rachel seemed like she knew how to handle the weight in front of her, and wasn't disturbed by it. Quinn watched her swipe a hand over her stomach, shifting to sit up. "Obviously all is well, Quinn."

There was a time where even when you hated Rachel, she would still have the heart to accept you back. She blinked back her tears, ignoring the burn in the back of her eyes. Her shoulders slouched, and soon, her hands clasped together. If she ever expected Rachel to forgive easily while she was on the streets for some time before Santana found out about her being kicked out, then she had to be kidding herself.

"I know that...this is so hard for you right now." Quinn said. "But I'm just gonna cut to the chase and say...that I'm so sorry, Rachel. I wasn't myself at that time when I saw you and Santana. It was just...I was just so filled with what daddy used to say about you that I seriously don't know why I did what I..."

Rachel sighed, making her trail off, "So how is school?"

Quinn frowned a bit, but answered with a bitter laugh, "Graduated and set for nowhere. I'm not sure what I plan on doing other than wander around."'

"Well at least you graduated and didn't have to get your GED," Rachel said, before shifting in her seat, hands settled under her belly. "I didn't ask for you to be here. I already forgive you. But I don't think I'm interested in talking about how my sister had me out of the house for catching me with my own girlfriend in my bedroom. Just bring your bags."

"...I can stay?"

"Well, I don't have the option of kicking you out." she said, dark eyes cold as they narrowed on Quinn. "So yes, Quinn. Unfortunately, you can stay here for the summer. But if this were my way, you wouldn't step one foot out of that mansion. Trust me."

Rachel pushed herself up, not in the least struggling. She was just as graceful even when pregnant, leaving the living room to walk upstairs. As soon as she disappeared, Quinn could only sigh in relief. At least she wasn't going to spend more gas money going back home. She looked at her phone, deleting the list of missed calls from her family, especially her father. She looked through the messages, taking all of them out except for one from Brittany. It said g_ood luck. _

She shut her phone off with a small smile, looking around the living room for pictures until she stopped over one. The one of her as an infant just baptized, cuddled in Rachel's arms. Funny. She never remembered having that picture.

* * *

**End**


End file.
